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I’ve been asked why I am always seeking outside opinions from my own. I used to think it was because I didn’t trust myself, didn’t trust my intuition or confidence.

Recently I’ve come to realize that I do trust myself and I have confidence in who I am. Nonetheless, the questions continue to persist. And for someone who is constantly seeking to revise and improve myself, this raised a question: why do I still ask people what they think?

Having ruled out the confidence bit, I then went deeper and pondered some more. I value what people have to share, so it isn’t a matter of wanting to hear myself talk. I will also make my own decision after carefully weighing and calculating all of the different points of view.

That’s when the happy realization came into focus that I see life as a collaborative journey. I value what those around me see, their unique perspectives that I might have missed, and hopefully vice versa. At the end of the day, we make our own decisions (hopefully) but when it comes to so many matters, we seek outside opinions.

It could be about a situation at work, an apartment, our love life, or a cooking technique. And yes, some people only ask questions so that they can hear themselves talk, which is frustrating. But on the whole, life is a collaborative journey and our own perspective is so narrow, so specific, that if we can get out of our heads a bit, and value what other people have to share that we might miss… well, it’s a beautiful thing.

That being said, there is an exception on who you can ask opinions from. It’s often extremely challenging to ask opinions from people who see the world in very limited black-and-white terms. Good and bad. Absolute. These folks often balk and run if they hear an answer that isn’t to their liking. You got dumped? Their response is often going to be “fuck that dude/gal. Move on.” They are done with it. Same with a job, etc.

So, if you’re looking for deep and thoughtful conversation, those folks might not be the best to turn to. It’s not a value judgment on them. In fact, sometimes for those of us who live so much in the grey, we can learn a little bit from them about boundaries. Usually our strongest traits are both our biggest strengths and biggest weaknesses.

We learn from the shared experiences of those around us and it’s important to recognize that collaborative approach to living, but it’s also important to value your own judgment as the final word. Love yourself and love the people around you. We are all doing our best. Try to listen to them. Have conversations about things that scare you. If they made you mad, dialogue with them. Never leave something unfinished. I think we all owe it to our own hearts and minds to accept collaboration as a gift to growth and more love for ourselves and the world around us.

You make decisions about what your life is going to be and you cleave to those ideals to keep you going. I had to prove myself wrong and I thought I had but there was still some part of me that held on to that old story, those old lines in the sand. At first you do it to keep yourself sane or to keep grounded but then those lines turn into ropes that hold you down. It’s rigid and you choke your freedom and creativity. Of course it wasn’t the intent, but the ropes are so tangled that you can’t see the illusion for what it is.

Then, it becomes comforting. Scary and painful but easy.

Easy to push everyone away, easy to believe that you can’t be happy. Comfort in the panic.

Then you get a glimpse that you can be happy without those ropes but it’s terrifying. Keeping walls up keeps you safe from the world but it’s lonely and painful, like watching the world from behind safety glass.

I stopped living my life behind the safety glass a while ago but didn’t realize I hadn’t fully let go of the script that I’d used as armor to keep people away. I didn’t even know it was still there until it showed up to bite me in the ass and as the words came out, my brain and my heart were screaming to stop. Autopilot. I don’t even believe what I’m saying but can’t stop.

I don’t want to keep people away, and haven’t for a while but didn’t see I had still kept that coat of armor in my repertoire, like when you keep the skinny pants in your closet even though you’ll never fit in to them.

So I’m letting that shit go.

I’m here for the pain, here for the vulnerability, here for the laughter and love. Because that’s life. And I’m fucking worth it. I am worth it as I am. Love my scars, love my flaws.

In worrying about what I’m going to do wrong, I sabotage myself and manifest. For the first time in a long time, I have true regret about my actions and my words. I let myself down with these old tendencies. I don’t even believe the old narrative anymore. That narrative became so rote in how I felt for so long that expressing anything else wasn’t even an option until I realized that I am not my thoughts.

I am not damaged. I am whole. I am alright.

For the first time in my adult life I like myself and I am happy.

I thought I had the weight of the baggage I had been carrying around for so long until I realized it was like a scar, a phantom pain. I never stopped to think that I did not believe that narrative anymore that it had actually disappeared.

Of course, in this lack of recognition and rote behavior, I have inevitable embarrassed myself and want to take it back. This is my only true regret, that I have let myself down.

In moments of tired desolation, I sometimes think my scars are obvious to everyone. Most have long since faded, but I know they are there and I can feel them with my fingertips. There is part of me that has to resist the pull even though I haven’t craved the pain in years.

Pain reminded me that I was alive. It’s become a constant. Pain shows us all that we are alive. I can handle my own physical pain more easily than seeing other people in pain, especially emotional pain. I go blank and I don’t know what to do.

When Chester took his life, what made my heart race and my breath catch in my chest was the pain of thinking those who were left who loved him dearest.

The idea that someone could be in that much pain that they wouldn’t even be cognizant of how their loved ones will continue to suffer long after they are gone… that hurt the most. The people we leave behind.

It took a while before I realized why it was that the ‘left behind’ thing struck such a chord with me, and it’s because so many people seemingly get tired of me and leave. They blame me or lash out or whatever. It’s why, at this point, I will actually give a small disclaimer about some of my weird habits/flaws when I meet people. I think somehow this will save me from the inevitable point where they get tired of me and leave. It’s sort of challenging though, to immediately tell people that you have an abandonment complex when you first meet them, and to not sound like a complete lunatic.

I guess the only thing I can hope for at this point is to move through life with a little bit of grace and dignity. I can only hope.

The abundance of #MeToo posts on social media over the past few days has been overwhelming and made me think about events and circumstances in my life that I’d really like to forget. I’m always made to think “well it could have been worse” instead of having been validated that it was real and awful to go through. I acknowledge that yes it could have been worse, of course, but that does not invalidate the trauma that I have experienced, and I am trying to own that.

Me too. Being made to feel that having my feelings and my body exploited is not worthy of being trauma because it wasn’t as bad as someone else.

Me too. Being catcalled, whistled, grabbed and shamed for 18 years.

Me too. Watching another friend trying to deal with the aftermath of being assaulted and wishing so much that I could go back in time and stop it from happening.

Me too. Being told that I should expect that sort of behavior because I am a female and my sweatpants and over-sized t-shirt/ shorts and tank top/ leggings and hoodie/ skirt and sweater/ etc. was “asking for it.”

Me too. The times I was harassed after ending a date with a handshake and a smile, and the times I tried to turn it into a “funny story” after it happened to deal with the fear.

Me too. When I was told “it’s only a kiss,” after sharing my disinterest in continuing the evening.

Me too. The times I expressed my potential interest in a partner and when I didn’t quickly succumb to their whims/desires/insecurities, immediately shamed and trashed. I had friendships disintegrate over this. The worst is when it isn’t an anonymous stranger, but someone you know and trust. Someone you’ve laughed with over frozen yogurt or beers, someone you’ve shared secrets with and attempted to stand strong for/with as their suicidal ideation got the best of them time and time again.

The times I wasn’t 100% sure how I felt and expressed my feelings and my hesitation, and was pushed for an answer and then shamed- telling me how much of a shitty person I was for “toying” with them.

I hope we can all heal from these traumas and are left with scar tissue instead of open wounds.

I have a tendency to get on tangents about what appears to others as unrelated subjects, but of course in my head it all makes sense.

Once I saw a man trying to keep up with a group of cyclists (all in professional attire on professional bicycles) whilst on a penny farthing. In the same place, I’ve also nearly tripped on a squirrel, seen a man running in a strapless leopard print dress and full makeup, and Wil Wheaton walking his dog.

They say you find god in the shit, which begs many questions. What kind of shit? How long does one need to look? Where? The ubiquitous ‘they’ also say you find god in the details… which again brings me to ask for details. I seek answers to these philosophical questions in life.

I’d like to publish a book someday entirely full of porridge recipes. I worry that this makes me some sort of ye olden days spinster grandmother, but then am reminded that am more likely to be confused for a hipster. I’d much rather be a old lady than a hipster, unless old ladies are the new black and have been doomed to hipsterdom, like penny farthings, beards, burritos, and veganism.

I am a hard working person who would be an asset to any company. I have a work ethic and a desire to succeed that will impress you. You won’t have to congratulate me for working hard- it’s part of the package. I see it as a given that I will give 110% effort.

For reasons not entirely known to self, yoga pose most want to do and somehow will signify have “made it” and am proper yogi, is crow. Once I can do that pose, heavens will open and I will be able to say I am awesome.

Perhaps this is due to lack of balance, strength, etc, at current that have decided this is the penultimate pose.

Currently able to put weight on hands but once lift foot, fall over. Hmm.

Starting 60 day challenge tomorrow- 60 yoga classes in 60 days! For next sixty days, have decided this blog will become about that.

At this point in life, have learned some stuff, gained some wisdom. Or, least I hope I have.

Have learned to stop settling for less than what I deserve. Should not spend energy on something if it doesn’t serve you (or alternatively, as my massage therapist says, “if it blesses you”, which is quite lovely). Don’t waste time/energy stressing out about something when cannot change it. Be unapologetic about the truth but don’t be a jerk. Even when angry or upset, don’t just react and yell at someone. You don’t know how that will affect someone else’s day. Don’t be an asshole to someone in customer service even if they are being one to you because no need to add more toxicity out into world.

Be more zen but don’t take shit from people. Being zen does not mean letting someone walk all over you.

Obviously, is easier said than done. But good mantras in life generally are so try to think about them and forgive yourself when you fuck up.

Have realized lately that am not interested in seeking things (eg love, friendship, etc). Figure these things will happen when universe decides am ready. I mean, do not want to be unemployed and homeless, so will seek job but will not waste energy on other things. Am tired of being consolation prize.

Would like for once in life to be wanted by:

..someone I want. Not someone who is fuckwit and will ditch me when they are stressed, then say I hurt them when I was upset by their ditching me. Also,

..Not someone who is using self and has no intention of doing anything other than stringing self along.

..someone who initiates and does not make me solely responsible for making all moves.

So, no more fuckwits. Fuckwits who string self along can go to hell. Am worth more than that and will now go and be zen.